There are always ways for those with determination, he said. Trust your path. The next day, Jasmine stayed late at school to use the library. As she passed the empty gymnasium, she noticed the door was a jar. Inside, she heard the rhythmic sound of someone practicing alone.
Curiosity drew her in. Ms. Powell, the PE teacher, was executing a series of basketball drills with machine-like precision. Jasmine watched from the doorway. Impressed by the older woman's focus and skill. You going to stand there all day or come in?
Ms. Powell called without breaking her routine. Embarrassed, Jasmine entered. Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. Ms. Powell sank one final basket before turning to face her. You're the scholarship student.
Taylor, right? Jasmine nodded, preparing for the usual judgment. I've seen you in gym class. You move differently than the others, like you've had training. For a moment, Jasmine considered denying it, keeping her secret safe.
But something in Ms. Powell's direct gaze made her reconsider. Taekwond do, she admitted. I'm a thirdderee black belt. Miss Powell's eyebrows rose slightly. Impressive.
So why do you let Whitney Caldwell walk all over you? The bluntness of the question caught Jasmine offguard. My scholarship is based on academic merit, not how well you take abuse. Said Powell bounced the basketball thoughtfully. You know, when I was playing in the WNBA, people told me I didn't belong there either.
Too short, too loud, too black. She fixed Jasmine with a steady look. You ever consider entering the showcase? That martial arts stuff would certainly stand out. The idea had been forming in Jasmine's mind since Whitney mentioned the prize, but hearing it suggested aloud made it suddenly real and terrifying.
They'd never let me win, Jasmine said quietly. Maybe not, Miz. Powell agreed. But sometimes it's not about winning, it's about being seen. The conversation stayed with Jasmine as she walked home, the possibility taking root.
If she entered the showcase and performed well enough, even if politics prevented her from winning, perhaps a video of her performance could help secure sponsorship for the championship. But just as this seed of hope began to grow, her phone exploded with notifications. Whitney and her friends had created a fake social media profile using Jasmine's photo. The profile was filled with posts written in exaggerated slang reinforcing every stereotype about lowincome black students. Already half the school had seen it.